The Magic of Oz

“I think I prefer to be a Bear,” said Big Bru. “I was born a Bear, and I know a Bear’s ways. So I am satisfied to live as a Bear lives.”

“That,” said the old Nome, “is because you know nothing better. When we have conquered the Oz people, and you become a man, you’ll be glad of it.”

The immense Leopard rested his chin on the log and seemed thoughtful.

“The beasts of the forest must decide this matter for themselves,” he said. “Go you, Rango the Gray Ape, and tell your monkey tribe to order all the forest beasts to assemble in the Great Clearing at sunrise to-morrow. When all are gathered together, this mixed-up Beast who is a magician shall talk to them and tell them what he has told us. Then, if they decide to fight the Oz people, who have declared war on us, I will lead the beasts to battle.”

Rango the Gray Ape turned at once and glided swiftly through the forest on his mission. The Bear gave a grunt and walked away. Gugu the King rose and stretched himself. Then he said to Ruggedo: “Meet us at sunrise to-morrow,” and with stately stride vanished among the trees.

The man-unicorn, left alone with the strangers, suddenly stopped his foolish prancing.

“You’d better make me a Unicorn again,” he said. “I like being a man, but the forest beasts won’t know I’m their friend, Loo, and they might tear me in pieces before morning.”

So Kiki changed him back to his former shape, and the Unicorn departed to join his people.

Ruggedo the Nome was much pleased with his success.

“To-morrow,” he said to Kiki Aru, “we’ll win over these beasts and set them to fight and conquer the Oz people. Then I will have my revenge on Ozma and Dorothy and all the rest of my enemies.”

“But I am doing all the work,” said Kiki.

“Never mind; you’re going to be King of Oz,” promised Ruggedo.

“Will the big Leopard let me be King?” asked the boy anxiously.

The Nome came close to him and whispered:

“If Gugu the Leopard opposes us, you will transform him into a tree, and then he will be helpless.”

“Of course,” agreed Kiki, and he said to himself: “I shall also transform this deceitful Nome into a tree, for he lies and I cannot trust him.”

The Isle of the Magic Flower

CHAPTER 9

The Glass Cat was a good guide and led Trot and Cap’n Bill by straight and easy paths through all the settled part of the Munchkin Country, and then into the north section where there were few houses, and finally through a wild country where there were no houses or paths at all. But the walking was not difficult and at last they came to the edge of a forest and stopped there to make camp and sleep until morning.

From branches of trees Cap’n Bill made a tiny house that was just big enough for the little girl to crawl into and lie down. But first they ate some of the food Trot had carried in the basket.

“Don’t you want some, too?” she asked the Glass Cat.

“No,” answered the creature.

“I suppose you’ll hunt around an’ catch a mouse,” remarked Cap’n Bill.

“Me? Catch a mouse! Why should I do that?” inquired the Glass Cat.

“Why, then you could eat it,” said the sailor-man.

“I beg to inform you,” returned the crystal tabby, “that I do not eat mice. Being transparent, so anyone can see through me, I’d look nice, wouldn’t I, with a common mouse inside me? But the fact is that I haven’t any stomach or other machinery that would permit me to eat things. The careless magician who made me didn’t think I’d need to eat, I suppose.”

“Don’t you ever get hungry or thirsty?” asked Trot.

“Never. I don’t complain, you know, at the way I’m made, for I’ve never yet seen any living thing as beautiful as I am. I have the handsomest brains in the world. They’re pink, and you can see ’em work.”

“I wonder,” said Trot thoughtfully, as she ate her bread and jam, “if my brains whirl around in the same way yours do.”

“No; not the same way, surely,” returned the Glass Cat; “for, in that case, they’d be as good as my brains, except that they’re hidden under a thick, boney skull.”

“Brains,” remarked Cap’n Bill, “is of all kinds and work different ways. But I’ve noticed that them as thinks that their brains is best is often mistook.”

Trot was a little disturbed by sounds from the forest, that night, for many beasts seemed prowling among the trees, but she was confident Cap’n Bill would protect her from harm. And in fact, no beast ventured from the forest to attack them.

At daybreak they were up again, and after a simple breakfast Cap’n Bill said to the Glass Cat:

“Up anchor, Mate, and let’s forge ahead. I don’t suppose we’re far from that Magic Flower, are we?”

“Not far,” answered the transparent one, as it led the way into the forest, “but it may take you some time to get to it.”

Before long they reached the bank of a river. It was not very wide, at this place, but as they followed the banks in a northerly direction it gradually broadened.

Suddenly the blue-green leaves of the trees changed to a purple hue, and Trot noticed this and said:

“I wonder what made the colors change like that?”

“It’s because we have left the Munchkin Country and entered the Gillikin Country,” explained the Glass Cat. “Also it’s a sign our journey is nearly ended.”

The river made a sudden turn, and after the travelers had passed around the bend, they saw that the stream had now become as broad as a small lake, and in the center of the Lake they beheld a little island, not more than fifty feet in extent, either way. Something glittered in the middle of this tiny island, and the Glass Cat paused on the bank and said:

“There is the gold flower-pot containing the Magic Flower, which is very curious and beautiful. If you can get to the island, your task is ended – except to carry the thing home with you.”

Cap’n Bill looked at the broad expanse of water and began to whistle a low, quavering tune. Trot knew that the whistle meant that Cap’n Bill was thinking, and the old sailor didn’t look at the island as much as he looked at the trees upon the bank where they stood. Presently he took from the big pocket of his coat an axe-blade, wound in an old cloth to keep the sharp edge from cutting his clothing. Then, with a large pocket knife, he cut a small limb from a tree and whittled it into a handle for his axe.

“Sit down, Trot,” he advised the girl, as he worked. “I’ve got quite a job ahead of me now, for I’ve got to build us a raft.”

“What do we need a raft for, Cap’n?”

“Why, to take us to the island. We can’t walk under water, in the river bed, as the Glass Cat did, so we must float atop the water.”

“Can you make a raft, Cap’n Bill?”

“O’ course, Trot, if you give me time.”

The little girl sat down on a log and gazed at the Island of the Magic Flower. Nothing else seemed to grow on the tiny isle. There was no tree, no shrub, no grass, even, as far as she could make out from that distance. But the gold pot glittered in the rays of the sun, and Trot could catch glimpses of glowing colors above it, as the Magic Flower changed from one sort to another.

“When I was here before,” remarked the Glass Cat, lazily reclining at the girl’s feet, “I saw two Kalidahs on this very bank, where they had come to drink.”

“What are Kalidahs?” asked the girl.